familiar source of comfort during her captivity. Dante had requested she share them. She had politely declined. Their mistrust was mutual. He had searched her room when she was showering…and when he thought she was asleep. She’d thwarted him by keeping the iPod and notebook on her at all times and in sight when bathing.
“Are you in pain?”
She shook her head again, and his ebony brows lowered. “You’re lying.”
She hated deception…and she stank at it. “I’m fine.”
“Tell me.”
Even if she dared confide in him, what could he do? They were both victims of circumstance. Both helpless.
Not comforting.
“How are your bonds?” she whispered.
His mouth hardened. Naturally, he recognized bait and switch. He was a maestro at it. “I’m making progress.”
She peeked behind his back, and her throat constricted at the blood coating the rope. “It looks like all you’ve accomplished is further injuring yourself.”
Wounded male pride sharpened his features. Great. She’d hurt his feelings. After seven months at sea with a cultural grab bag of employees and passengers, she should be used to macho Mediterranean males.
Dante whispered fiercely, “Dio provvede.”
God will provide. Odd encouragement from a criminal. “God helps those who help themselves,” she whispered back.
“Exactly my point, Ariana. Keep the faith.”
She studied his striking profile. The man she’d thought a sullen mobster was a Gordian knot of intriguing contradictions.
The boat’s hull scraped land. The Greek leaped into the shallow water and dragged the craft onto a sliver of rocky beach carved out of a high cliff.
Their time had run out.
“Our hosts are not wearing guns,” Dante murmured. “Do as they say, and stay behind me, until I tell you otherwise.”
Ariana was too anxious to argue. He was the criminal expert.
Sandwiched between their two captors, she and Dante climbed awkwardly out of the boat. Coarse rock scrunched under her deck shoes as she trudged up the beach.
The Greek halted in front of a semicircle of craggy boulders spearing from the sand. “Sit.”
Dante uncharacteristically complied. Did he have a plan?
Please have a plan. She followed his lead and sat beside him.
Draped in the cold, black shroud of night, the hostile island appeared uninhabited. A cliff overshadowed the beach, bullying aside the moonlight. Waves pummeled the shore with white-capped fists.
The thugs turned and walked toward the boat, and Ariana reached for Dante’s hands. “Are they returning to the yacht and leaving us here to die?”
“Not if I can stop them.” He squeezed her fingers, then let go to continue his fight for freedom. “You watch them while I concentrate on escape.”
The Greek leaned into the boat and scooped out Dante’s leather coat. The Russian snatched it away. The Greek gestured and said something, and then they began to argue in their tangled English.
Ariana understood enough to grasp the conversational gist.
“Nyet!” The stocky Russian clutched the coat.
The Greek punctuated his diatribe with a vehement hand gesture.
Dante looked up from his urgent task. “Che?”
Ariana grimaced. “Abandonment suddenly doesn’t look so bad.” Dante had said the men weren’t armed with guns, but if the Greek still had his knife, he could cut their throats…She bit her lip. And while she was scaring herself with what-ifs, they were losing valuable seconds. “The Greek just said, ‘Do as we were told and leave it. No evidence.’”
Dante swore vilely in Italian and redoubled his effort. He shifted, felt behind him. “I scraped my knuckles on a jagged rock. With time, I can cut myself loose.”
Down the beach, the Greek acerbically reminded the Russian he could buy fifty coats with the price Megaera was paying them. Though the Russian couldn’t immediately agree without losing face, the debate cooled.
“Time is in very short supply.”
“Then you will have to stall. Distract them.”
“How? I doubt they’ll be interested in my rendition of the Iliad.”
His broad shoulders bunched as he vigorously scraped his ropes. He quirked a glossy brow. “There is one thing that interests all men, bella.”
“You can’t be serious.”
Admiration flashed briefly in his eyes. “Sei bellissima, Ariana.”
Amazement curled through her. Most beautiful. She shook her head. “Say I get their attention…and then you can’t break free.” She shuddered. “I really don’t want to go there.”
“My solemn oath, I will not fail you. Once my word is given, I follow through. No matter the cost.”
That could be good. Or very bad.
It all depended on the man.
“Trust me, Ariana.”
Trust him. She rested her forehead on her bent knees.
“We have no recourse,” Dante hissed. “If you want to survive, you must do it.”
She straightened and saw the Greek and Russian shaking hands. Whether they’d agreed to a fast end for her and Dante or a slow one, she didn’t want to know.
Not only were they out of time…they were out of options.
She scooted away from Dante to keep the men from noticing what he was doing while she played seductress.
“Hey…you guys.” She forced down her revulsion and attempted a come-hither look. Both men ignored her.
She glanced back at Dante. Muscles corded in his tanned arms and strong neck as he waged his war with his bindings.
Their glances locked, and resolve glinted in his eyes. His wrenching movements had to hurt—a lot—but his set features didn’t reveal pain. Her own effort in the hold of the ship had scalded her arms like liquid fire, and it hadn’t been nearly as ferocious.
She could fight as hard for their survival. Ariana scrabbled to her feet and attempted an enticing stroll. “You aren’t leaving, are you?”
Almost in slow motion, the thugs turned to stare at her.
She tilted her head. “I’m cold. And my arms hurt. If you untie
